


The Road Not Taken

by startraveller776



Category: Labyrinth
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodbyes, One Shot, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startraveller776/pseuds/startraveller776
Summary: On the eve of her wedding, Sarah has a chance meeting with the magical king of her past.





	The Road Not Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic. This has been rewritten to reflect my current skills, and to resolve a few problems I had with the original version. Special thanks for my initial beta, undergrounddaydreams!

**THE ROAD NOT TAKEN**

Sarah couldn't breathe. The celebration happening around her—women screaming like girls, drinks sloshing everywhere, scantily-clad men dancing to loud music—was too much. She was suffocating in the din of her bachelorette party, drowning in the gaiety. She pushed through the throng of her giggling, drunken pals, searching for her maid of honor and best friend, Jesse. The crowd screamed again, presumably because the stripper on stage had removed another article of clothing, and Sarah covered her ears. If she didn't get out of there soon, she thought she might not survive until the morning.

A hand fell on her arm and she jerked away instinctively, turning to see who had grabbed at her. Jesse stood before her with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips. "Where do you think you're going?" she yelled over the noise. "You're the guest of honor!"

Sarah shook her head. "I need some air."

"What?" Jesse stepped closer. "What did you say?"

Sarah took Jesse's hand and pulled her toward the exit where it was quieter. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going back to the hotel."

"You can't leave yet!" Jesse looked appalled by the idea. "This is your last night of freedom. Debauchery until dawn is the rule."

Sarah hugged Jesse. The woman was half-insane most of the time and completely nuts the rest, but Sarah loved her. "You guys carry on without me. Just tell the girls I puked or something cool like that."

Disappointment swept over Jesse's face. "If you're sure, hon. Do you want me to call you a cab or something?"

Sarah smiled. "No, I didn't drink anything."

"I think you totally missed the point of a bachelorette party." Jesse snorted.

Sarah shrugged. "That's why I've got you—to mentor me in the mysterious ways of partying." She turned Jesse toward the crowd of squealing women and gave her a gentle push. "Now go enjoy yourself some naked men while I get some beauty sleep for my wedding."

Jesse gave her questioning look, and Sarah waved her on. Before she pushed the door open, she glanced at the stage in time to see the male stripper gyrating in a thong, and she cringed. No, this was definitely not how she wanted to spend her last night of freedom.

Outside the moon was full and bright, and the early summer air was cool. Sarah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, lungs expanding. This was what she needed—open sky and quiet. The bar, being the sole establishment on the highway for miles, was surrounded by a thick forest of trees. She was glad to be away from the city.

A twinkling light teased at the corner of her eye, but when she glanced in its direction, there was only the darkness of the forest. She shook herself. Ever since that night fifteen years ago, she had always felt like there was something just beyond her periphery, that if she would turn quickly enough, she would discover something magical. It was a silly notion, a left-over from the naivety of youth. There was no magic here in her world, not like the kind she experienced in the Labyrinth.

Sometimes it seemed as if it had been nothing more than a dream, that harrowing, enchanting place. But the dangers untold and hardships unnumbered had been too real to dismiss, even after her friends had stopped appearing in her vanity mirror. She hadn't forgotten them. She hadn't forgotten _him_.

The light appeared again, this time within her field of vision. It wavered then dissipated before materializing deeper into the stand of trees. Goosebumps prickled her skin and her heart began to pounds. She should get into her car and head back toward the hotel—

The light paused, hanging still as if beckoning her to follow.

She took a tentative step off the asphalt of the parking lot. This was dangerous, she told herself. Who knew what waited for her under the canopy of evergreens? And yet…

And yet, this could be Sarah's last adventure—her last impulsive moment before embracing the responsibilities that come with marriage and a family. She cast one last glance at the bar, hearing the muted sounds of laughter, squeals, and the pulsing bass of the music, before darting into the underbrush toward the waiting glow. The cool air rushed against her as she ran, billowing the skirt of her dress behind her. She felt so _alive!_

As if sensing her decision, the light danced forward, traveling deeper into the woods. Sarah chased after it, ignoring the way her pumps pinched her toes with each stride. The trees grew closer together, and she had to hold her arms up to keep the low branches from whipping her in the face, but she didn't slow down. She wanted to catch the light, discover what it was. Her laughter rang out in the forest, echoing off the ancient trees. This was so much better than dancing men and inebriated girlfriends.

She caught up to the glittering orb, stretched a hand to touch it, but it winked out, vanishing. She took in her surroundings with panting breath. There were trees as far as she could see in the dark night. None of the neon lights of the bar or the street lamps of the highway beyond filtered through the dense boughs, and the first filaments of anxiety thread themselves through her chest. Oh god. Oh, no. Had she lost herself in the woods the night before her wedding? What a stupid, _stupid_ thing to have—

Wait. Was that _music_ she was hearing? The tune was beguiling, a smooth blend of flutes and strings in a piece woven with a sense of yearning. She swayed toward the melody, feet moving on instinct before she could stop herself. She should retreat, attempt to pick her way through the forest. But that _song_...

_I've come this far already._ She stepped hesitantly toward the music, more cautious now, and gasped when it seemed as if she walked through a warm, silent waterfall. She checked her clothing, her hair, but nothing was wet. She glanced back and saw nothing changed in the forest behind her. Had that merely been her overactive imagination?

The music grew louder with each step she took, and soon the woods began to thin out. There was a clearing ahead, and at the center, people were dancing by a large bonfire. She crept closer, staying among the trees to avoid notice. The dancers were dressed in archaic finery, flowing around one another with practiced ease. They were breathtaking, ethereal—inhuman in their beauty and grace. 

The underbrush rustled nearby, and she flattened herself agains the rough bark of the closest tree, pulse racing. After several quavering breaths, she found the courage to peek around the trunk. A couple ambled arm-in-arm a few feet toward the clearing, shrouded by the tree line as they spoke quietly to one another. A striking lady with red-gold ringlets and pale skin that shimmered like the stars and—_no_. No, not _him_.

They paused at the edge of the meadow, and the King of the Goblins murmured something to the woman, releasing her arm and caressing her cheek with a gloved hand. She gave him a kiss before leaving him behind, and Sarah blushed, feeling the voyeur for that tender moment. It was unthinkable that her old nemesis was capable of that kind of genuine affection.

Once alone, he leaned against a tree with a sigh, gaze turned away from the festivities. He wore a dark coat—the color was impossible to decipher in the moonlight—with the white lace of his shirt spilling out of his collar and cuffs. The rest of his attire was as regal as Sarah remembered, but he seemed different—deflated, haunted, as if he had lost part of what had once made him larger than life. She wasn't sure why that bothered her.

He conjured a crystal, dancing it across his hands a few times before holding it in front of him. His mouth moved with some kind of incantation, and while, to her eyes, the sphere didn't change, it was obvious that he saw something in its depths. His brow furrowed, and his mismatched eyes snapped up to meet hers.

Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth to mute the frightened squeak that escaped her as she darted back into her hiding place. Had he seen her? What would he do if he had? She'd destroyed his castle, beat him at his game. He would be less than pleased to cross paths with her again. But then, she'd been nothing more than a headstrong teenager when they last met. If that slim red volume had any truth to it, he was eons old. For all she knew, she wasn't the first or the last to defeat his maze. She was another face in a sea of impertinent, self-centered adolescents, that's all.

Grasping at another shaky thread of courage, she peered around the trunk, but he was gone. She couldn't quite muster up a sense of relief at his absence, though. Why? He'd been her adolescent adversary, forcing her to fight for the brother she hadn't realized she wanted until he took him from her. Until she wished him away, she corrected. Age and wisdom had made it impossible to deny this truth. But what of the King of the Goblins, that terrifying being? She wasn't sure anymore that he was the demon she once thought him to be, not like the monsters from her world. He'd been arrogant and taunting, yes, but not truly evil. He'd pushed her past the point of breaking, but she'd never been in mortal danger.

She let out the breath she'd been holding, gaze drifting back toward the dancers. She watched the unearthly scene for several minutes, imprinting it in her memory to revisit during the occasional times when mundanity of real life would overtake her. He'd offered her permanence in his world those years ago, but she didn't regret her choice, not when her brother's future was on the line. But oh, sometimes in her daydreams she played with what-ifs, then poured those gauzy visions into ink and paper, crafting tales for young romantics like she'd been once. 

That was enough. She had a life to get back to. She turned to retrace her steps, but halted with a spike of trepidation when she found the legendary king standing before her, head titled with curiosity written in his eyes as he searched her face. He stepped toward her, and she retreated, heart thrumming.

"Are you an apparition?" he asked in hushed tones. "Come to torment me this night?"

Sarah shook her head, unable to find her voice.

He reached forward, brushing his gloved fingers against her cheek. "You _are_ real—beautifully real." A flash of longing crossed his features, so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it. He snatched his hand away and narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed a light." It seemed silly when she said it out loud.

Jareth laughed, but it was without mirth. "Oh, Sarah. Ever the impetuous girl." He stroked her cheek again. "No, not a girl any longer."

His words pebbled her skin with disquiet, and she swallowed. He remembered her. Had he been this alluring before? As a youth she had recognized his breathtaking beauty. And when they had danced, she'd been confused by the stirrings she felt in his arms—stirrings she later knew were the beginnings of a more mature attraction, one that she had not ready for then. Now that she had benefit of experience, she understood the intent behind his unwavering scrutiny, and a tiny thrill sparked to life in her middle in answer to it.

"Indeed, you have blossomed as I always knew you would." He smirked. "And yet, you still don't understand the dangerous game you play."

The ghost of her old mulish defiance awakened within her at his accusation. "I'm not playing a game."

Jareth quirked a brow. "Aren't you? You chase after magic and think yourself impervious to the consequences."

Consequences? A chill dove down Sarah's spine with that word, humbling her. "I… I didn't know."

His face darkened. "You never do." He advanced on her, pinning her in place with his gaze. "You follow your careless impulses, taking no thought for the boundaries you cross, for the destruction you leave in your wake." His tone was harsh, but his expression was almost wounded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. The words felt hollow, inadequate in some way. Was it possible that _she_ was the cause of the melancholy that dimmed his once vibrant eyes? No, that couldn't be.

Jareth snorted. "What if I told you that you heedlessly followed a wisp, a _lure_—that you are meant to be a plaything for my companions on this night of celebration?" He nodded toward the clearing. "What if I told you that they will keep you until they grow tired of you? And with your beauty…" he paused, twirling a lock of her dark hair, "…they might never let you go." His mismatched eyes bored into hers. "Would you say that it isn't fair?"

"No," she breathed through a mounting dread. Years had culled the youthful illusion of invincibility from her, replaced it with a dose of self-preservation.

"Ah. Finally have a basis for comparison, do you?" He gave her a sardonic grin. "You needn't fear my friends. I'm far too selfish to let them have my Sarah."

_My Sarah_. She repeated the phrase in her mind, trembling at the implications. "You intend to keep me for yourself."

Jareth threw back his head and let loose a deep laugh, reminiscent of the antihero of her teenage years. "How you tempt me." He shook his head. "So _very_ tempting, beautiful girl." The caress in his voice sent another wave of chills over her.

"It's too late for that." His expression turned grim again. "Let us strike a bargain. I ask but a small price for your freedom—a trifle, really." He held out a gloved hand. "A dance."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You're going to let me go?"

"Against my every desire."

He pulled her to him as if she had given consent and spun her in languid circles to the music wafting in from the meadow. She didn't fight him, deciding that one last dance with the Goblin King was worth a safe trip back to her world. Their movements were natural, graceful, much like she remembered from the waltz they shared years ago. For a moment, she could see the crystal ballroom again as he guided her steps.

"Tell me something, Sarah." Jareth's breath was warm against her ear. "How is it that you can be so very clever—enough to defeat my Labyrinth—and yet, still so blind?"

Sarah pulled back, frowning. "Blind? Do you mean when I stumbled into this place?"

"More than that. So much more than that." He stared down at her as if he could discover her deepest secrets. "Beautiful, cruel Sarah, I would have given you everything." He tightened his arm around her, pressing her body against his, and rested his cheek on her head. "How I wish…" He let the words trail off. "But then, no one grants the wishes of the Goblin King."

The bitterness in his voice was a dagger to her chest. Had he truly loved her as the book said? But— "I was a child." Her stomach a tumult of mixed emotions. Wrongness at the notion swirled with the stark recollection that she'd been drawn to him then, even as she feared him. She was _still_ drawn to him.

"Must you be so willful in your ignorance?" he murmured in brittle tones. "Think, Sarah. _Think_."

She frowned. She didn't understand—until she suddenly did. He was a master of time; did that mean he also saw beyond the current moment? Did it mean that he hadn't fallen in love with the self-absorbed teenager but with the grown woman that she would—_could_—become? Could she have come to love him in return? She couldn't say, didn't want to consider it even as his hand at her waist felt like it belonged.

But the startling revelation made plain what she had taken from Jareth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his shoulder, a pang of regret brimming in her eyes.

"Save your apologies. What's done is done."

They danced on in silence, her head resting under his chin, his arm cinched around her waist. Would he have sent Toby back if she'd asked him to? _Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want. _Could she have trusted him then, when she was on the cusp of defeating him? Could she have lived with the terms of his deal? Rationality said she made the right decision then; she'd been too young and her brother needed to be saved. But in the stillness outside of reality, she felt caught in a some mythical tale—a story of star-crossed lovers, drawn to each other by an inexplicable force, but never meant to be.

She pushed away the wistful thoughts, chiding herself for being overdramatic, but the ache persisted. If he loved her so deeply, why didn't Jareth fight for her? Why didn't he demand that she stay with him—threaten to throw Jeff into an oubliette for daring to love his Sarah? _Unless_… The image of a beautiful woman with golden ringlets crossed Sarah's mind.

"Who is she?" she asked, already guessing the answer. "The woman you were with, I mean."

Jareth blew out a sigh. "She is what I had once intended you to be—my queen."

Sarah nodded. "I'm… I'm glad that you have someone."

He heaved another sigh, even deeper than the first, stirring her hair with his breath. "But not the one I want." His words were almost inaudible.

Sarah didn't respond—what could she say? The sorrow in his tone was palpable; it tightened her chest like a vise. _If only… _But it was too late. This was a losing game, the fantasy of what might of been.

Their dancing came to a halt, and Jareth lifted her chin. He traced a line down her cheek. "Weeping for your villain, Sarah? How generous of you to offer me your pity."

"No." She shook her head. "You're not my villain." Not anymore. He couldn't be anything to her now, though. She tried to turn away, but he held her gaze.

Slowly, he dried her tears with his fingers. "Is there no end to your cruelty? Can I never be free of you?"

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She felt everything in his kiss—his love, his grief, his desires, his despair. It crashed into her, seizing her every cell, enhanced by the magic that flowed through his blood. It was both beautiful and terrible, and she clutched his coat as fresh tears stung in her eyes.

Before she could drown in his longing, he broke off the kiss. "Goodbye, my Sarah." He stepped back and faded into nothing.

She stumbled, falling, falling, falling with no end to her descent. And she saw—oh, she _saw_ it. Everything he must have seen as a being who lived in the past, present, and future all at once. She saw herself, his queen. His Sarah. Not a child, but a timeless woman radiating with a blinding aura of power. She saw what grew in her wake: the bold colors painting the Underground with vibrancy, with _life_. This was what could have been, what _should_ have been.

She shot up in bed, his name on her tongue. She blinked, disoriented as she glanced wildly about, unconsciously seeking him. But instead of the copse of trees where they danced, there was only the ecru walls of her hotel room. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It had been a dream, a fanciful vision her nerves had fabricated on the eve of her wedding.

Only a dream, but it had been so _vivid_. She could still smell the fresh, green loam of the forest floor and hear the soft music from the meadow. She could still feel his arm around her, his gloved fingers as he caressed her cheek, the burn on her lips from his despondent kiss. Her chest constricted, as if her heart had been sliced to pieces and had healed imperfectly.

She shook the painful images from her mind. Her brow furrowed when she saw that she still wore the same dress from the night before, small flecks of glitter dusted it, sparkling in the morning light. She climbed out of bed and inspected her shoes, finding them scuffed and dirty. Her hand went to her mouth.

She flung open the french doors to the balcony, uncertain of what she was doing. She crossed to the railing and stared down at the blanket of evergreens, searching… Searching for what? For him. She needed to... No, she couldn't. She couldn't wish him back, tell him that she was no longer naive. Because what was done was done. She'd made her choice, and he'd made his.

Ignoring the ache in the hollow behind her sternum, she stepped away from the balcony. None of this mattered now. The page had turned on their story long ago, and she was hours away from embarking on a new one. The magic of the Labyrinth and its enigmatic king would only live on in the tales she penned. Today she was marrying a wonderful man—one who made her laugh, who shared her zeal for adventure, reveled in her imagination. This was the road she had taken. She couldn't mourn the other path that never was.

She paused at the double doors, turning back toward the sea of trees. "Goodbye, Jareth," she whispered. "Goodbye forever."

**~FIN~**


End file.
